The Good Fight
by Jetpack Monkey
Summary: Sunnydale's a big hole in the ground. What does the most "average" Scooby do with his life now? (Post-Chosen vignette)


On my sixteenth birthday, I had a little party at The Bronze. And I stress "little." More of a tight gathering, really. Just me, Wil, and Jesse. Willow gave me a mix tape of some of our favorite songs - some Cibo Matto, some Nerf Herder, and at the end, the Peanuts theme music. Jesse gave me a new decal for my skateboard. There was a muffin with a candle... and with it, the requisite wish. 

In those days, when wishes didn't cause veiny demons to alter reality (and may I just say how much fun that isn't?), I could've asked for anything.

But, I got sentimental and hoped that, when we were all done with college, we would still be happy and healthy together.

Looking back, I probably should've asked to never, ever meet a vampire, but you can't predict everything.

I never went to college. Neither did Jesse, but with being vamped and staked, he had a much better excuse. Willow's been through a bunch, the least of which is becoming evil and nearly destroying the world. Tara's death really knocked her hard (and raise your hand if Kennedy just screams "pushy rebound"?). Oh, and did I mention the part where I became Dread Pirate Harris, minus the "Dread".

I stood over the gaping hole where my old hometown used to be, and I started thinking - where could I go now? I didn't have a job. I didn't have an apartment. Hell, I didn't have a Bronze to drown my sorrows at. I didn't even have an Anya anymore. Andrew said... she went down fighting. Good girl.

I wondered for a second if any of my family made it out, and then I realized I didn't really care too much.

Buffy was pretty pleased. Sure, there was the surprisingly non-fatal wound through her gut, but she saved the world (again), re-envisioned the concept of the Slayer, and she knows exactly where all of her friends and family are. She's rolling in the karma points.

I wondered if my old boss made it out. Or Richard. Or Scott Hope. If that cute girl with the freckles from the Espresso Pump was still alive.

I decided then - I have to go. Life since Buffy Summers...it's been a weird vacation from normality. We're talking vacation during a tropical storm, here. Maybe I could move out to L.A., get lost. Angel's protecting that city as well as he can, so it's got to be a little safe. And there's always good work in hard labor.

Nah. First vamp I see will just bring me back in, "Godfather III"-style. I'll be working with Angel within a year. No thanks.

That night, we camped out. I had to share a tent with Giles. Neither of us shut our eyes. Even though we'd barely slept in the last two days, something kept us. Finally, Giles turned to me.

"Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"It occurs to me that what we've done, what we've opened is quite... unprecedented. Things have altered considerably. The balance may be permanently tipped."

"Giles, you're speaking in Obvious."

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm working towards something. Keep with me."

"I'm keeping. I'm not understanding, but I'm keeping."

"Xander, there going to be a lot of girls with powers they have no explanation for, fighting evils they cannot name. They need guidance. Someone to show them how to battle the forces of darkness while staying in the, er..."

"Light?"

"I was looking for a better word, but yes, light."

"You mean Watchers."

"Not exactly. The Watchers who came before would be rather... ineffectual in the new order of things. They barely kept the system running in the old days. These new Slayers don't just need a trainer. They need a confidante. An ally. A friend."

His train of thought careened into the station, and I sat straight up.

"Xander, the future of Watching may benefit from your example."

I looked at him, disbelieving. Watcher and father had taken on almost identical meanings for me, exactly identical meanings for Buffy. He couldn't possibly be asking me to...

"Think it over tonight. We'll discuss it further come morning."

I tried to do the too-stunned-to-sleep thing, but eventually, I was surfing the Alpha waves. I had a dream, sorta like one I had before, years ago. I saw Giles and Spike, both clad in the finest Corinthian tweed, swinging on a swingset. Giles was going to make Spike a Watcher. And I was jealous.

Even in death, that vampire still got my goat.

Something was different, though. There was a girl, a new Slayer, I guess. She was tall and thin, and she had her hair cropped close to her head. She looked very stern. In her right hand, she held a stake, and in her left, an eye.

She came up to me, and whispered in my ear, "You're the one that sees," as she clapped the eyeball back into my socket.

I woke suddenly, feeling a bit nauseated. I rubbed my eyes, still surprised at the feeling of emptiness under the fabric on the left side. I was a cyclops and I didn't even get eyebeams (or sheep).

I emerged from the tent, unsurprised to find Buffy tending the fire. That girl had a no-sleep zone of about a week following any given apocalypse.

"Hey, Xander."

"Buffy. I had a - a weird dream."

"Did it involve The First Slayer?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"It's... nothing. Go on."

"It involved a Slayer."

"Maybe I don't wanna hear about this. Especially if there's a loofah involved."

"Nothing like that, but note to self, more loofah-centric dreams. Buffy, Giles asked me to do something kinda odd last night."

"Okay, this could be way grosser than the loofah."

"Would ya stop with the loofah? There is no loofah. Giles wants me to join up and see all I can see in the Watchers' Corps."

I expected Buffy to laugh. There was a cornucopia of eye jokes to be made here, and somebody had to cash in. Anya would've. I wanted Buffy to laugh. I wanted Buffy to dismiss it as out of the range of ol' Xander, tell me to go back to building schools or something.

But she didn't. She got up, walked over to me, and put her hands in mine and said, "I can't imagine a better man for the job."

On my seventeenth birthday, I had a little party in the cemetery. Just me, Wil, Buffy, and Giles. Wil made me this beautiful stake, for defense purposes only, of course. Giles had given me a solemn promise that I could miss the next round of musty research that didn't involve an oncoming apocalypse. Buffy gave me a cake...and with it, the requisite wish.

I could've asked for anything. But I got sentimental and hoped that, five years from now, we would all still be together, fighting the good fight.

And looking back, I wouldn't change that wish for anything.


End file.
